Lost & Found
by Primrue
Summary: The war has been over for three years, yet people are still suffering. Their memories haunt them and when the Obliviators appear Hermione knows she has to act quick. Especially since Harry is suffering most of all. There is only one person she can think of that could help her friend remember that pain is part of life and that what once was lost, can also once again be found.


Lost and Found

* * *

~o0o~

* * *

It was subtle at first. Rumours and talk about the possibility that lay in front of them. People were hurting after the war, and while muggles resorted to forgetting by reaching the bottom of a bottle, wizards had wands, didn't they? So why not use them?

But, as mentioned, it had all been talk. Until it wasn't.

 _They_ had emerged, ready to take advantage of poor suffering souls. Professional Obliviators, they called themselves. Menace, Hermione thought.

She'd tried warning them all. Together with Kinglsey she had worked to inform everyone of what they truly doing, wanting them to realise that the road towards healing didn't lie with some magical solution. She should have known better. These were people who rarely suffered longer than necessary and had potions and spells for just about everything. Kingsley had been extremely apologetic, but in the end, the power lied with the people. All he could do was make sure no one attempted to Obliviate themselves without proper experience and knowledge. And so the Obliviators won.

 _My parents can't remember I even exist,_ Hermione thought whenever there was a mention of more people using this method, _but they didn't have a choice. And here people are willingly forgetting their loved ones._

She was disgusted, she was appalled, horrified, she was tired. _We're letting him win!_ she wanted to shout at them. _Voldemort wins if we all forget the one thing he never learned to do: love!_ But she couldn't help them beyond what she'd already done, and so Hermione resigned herself to care for those around her instead.

Then that terrible evening at the Burrow happened.

They'd all been gathered for dinner when George entered through the door, greeting them all with a smile. That had been enough for everyone to see that something was wrong, but the lack of shadows under his eyes, the lightness his steps carried and the absence of alcohol in his breath suggested something was truly amiss.

"What have you done!" Mrs. Weasley had shrieked at her son. "Of all the foolish—this is not how I raised you! Did your brother mean so little to you?!"

"I do still remember him, Mum! I just don't remember the pain!"

His mother stormed out of the kitchen, and as she passed, the rest of the family followed and left their dinner untouched. Harry and Hermione remained, not sure what to do.

George had stepped out of the kitchen then, standing awkwardly by their seats, hands in his pockets. It was silent for a long time.

"They . . . they can really take away the pain?" Harry asked, breaking the silence. "Without removing the memories themselves?"

George nodded, smiling. "I remember having Fred in my life, it just doesn't hurt anymore to remember that, y'know?"

And what Hermione saw fleet in Harry's eyes just then scared her. She knew she had to stop it.

Which was how she found herself in front of the Archway at the Department of Mysteries.

Having lived with Harry, Ginny and Ron for the first two years after the war, Hermione was familiar with the Black library, but she'd never dared look into some of the spells she'd found, for fear making things worse than they already were. What if he emerged as a corpse? Rotting and . . .No. She shook her head. Focus.

Her job at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had helped her gain access to the Ministry as a whole, but some coaxing had been necessary for her to get down here. Luckily, Justin Finch-Fletchley remembered their brief time together as fond. All that was left was to lie to everyone about she was doing and to enact a very, very dark spell.

She faced the archway again. _I can't let Harry do this. He needs you._

Raising her hands above her head, she chanted, ferocious winds encircling her, as if trying to warn her one last time of what she was doing. But Hermione kept the chant going.

When she'd been going for a couple of minutes, her voice straining a bit, there was a blurred shape visible in the archway. She kept going, her voice growing stronger.

". . . _inveniet AMISSA_!"

A black head of hair, then shoulders, a body, and the man in front of her slumped down and she kneeled quickly, turning him to lie face up.

"Sirius!"

He mumbled something incoherent, shivering and struggling to sit up.

"It's okay," said Hermione, heaving his body to lie more comfortably on the ground, his head in her lap. "I've got you, you're okay." She proceeded to pour whatever potions would help him recover from being not-dead for five years down his throat.

After the fifth potion he gasped, eyes wide and breath uneven. "Wha—Herm . . . Hermione?"

"Sirius, I'm sorry, but the explanations will have to wait. I'm going to give you a Sleeping Draught now, okay? You'll thank me later."

He didn't even get a chance to protest before she forced him to ingest the whole thing.

The book she'd found at Grimmauld Place had said that the Veil would have put him in a state that wouldn't make it dangerous when he got out again, but she wasn't about to take any chances. Also, she had no desire risking him having a meltdown right here in the Ministry.

Putting a featherweight charm on the man, she hovered him next to her, all the while he was disillusioned. She hadn't been able to ask Harry for the invisibility cloak, not without potentially rouse suspicion.

It wasn't an easy escape, but they made it to her flat safely. She set him down on her bed and removed the spell. In the light of her bedroom, she noticed that Sirius hadn't aged a day in the past five years. It would seem the archway had had him preserved. She checked his breathing once more and scanned for any injuries, but it came out blank. He was fine. Or at very least, physically fine.

The relief hit her like a ton of bricks and before she knew what happened, she sobbed. She sobbed for Sirius, she sobbed for Harry, she sobbed for the happiness that the two of them would share, and then she sobbed for her parents. For being alone. For being tired and exhausted. And then that sobbing transformed into wailing, and she knelt down on the floor, clutching her own shoulders, wishing someone would hold her and let her rest finally.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

When Hermione woke the next day she discovered she was on the floor. Her muscles ached and her eyes stung from the crying, but she paid that no attention. Her first thought was Sirius.

He was sleeping soundly still, his hair resting on the pillow in flawless, straight locks. One had fallen into his face and Hermione brushed it gently away, sighing. She needed to prepare him for what had happened in his absence. Harry was all grown up and Hermione was under no illusion that that fact might not end up hurting Sirius a little. But she'd make him see. She'd tell them both to at least be grateful to have more time together. She'd make sure Harry came to treasure his memories, instead of wanting the pain gone.

After changing in the bathroom and getting herself ready for the day, Hermione heated some breakfast. Molly had sent food, worried lately about Hermione neglecting her meals. Which was warranted, Hermione had been busy with work and while preparing Sirius' return, there had barely been time for sleep.

Once the food was on the table, Hermione returned to Sirius. Reaching for one of the many bottles on her bedside table, she unstopped it and poured it carefully into Sirius' mouth, his head lifted by Hermione's hand.

Sirius coughed and rolled around to the side. Hermione retracted her arm and waited. His eyes blinked and adjusted to the sunlight slowly. "Where—where am I?"

"Hello, Sirius," Hermione said, her voice unable to hold off a little shake. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Sirius said, sitting up against the wall with a small grimace. "Hermione, where am I?"

"You're in my flat."

"What?" That's when Sirius looked at her fully. For the first time, he appeared to notice the change in her, how she didn't have the face and body of a fifteen year old anymore. The moment this registered, his eyes grew wide and his brows knit together. "Hermione, what happened?"

She bit her lip. "You . . .You fell, Sirius. You fell through the veil. It's been five years since."

Sirius swallowed. "Harry?"

Hermione smiled. "He's alive and well. Voldemort was defeated three years ago."

"Bellatrix?"

"Gone, dead. Molly took care of her." Not before Bellatrix marked Hermione for life, but no need to bring that up, she wore that scar proudly. Realising something, she added, "And Peter Pettigrew met his end too."

Sirius was quiet for a while, looking as if he was glad to hear the news, but obviously had other questions gnawing on him from the inside yet asking nothing. As if he was afraid to know the answer.

Hermione answered for him. "Remus and Tonks . . .they . . .they didn't make it, I'm afraid."

"No." Sirius' hands rose up to clutch his face as his upper body hunched over into itself.

"You should lie down, Sirius," said Hermione. "You need rest."

"I'm fine!" Sirius snapped, making her flinch. He looked away, guiltily, and swallowed. "I'm sorry, it's just—"

"A lot to take in. I understand." Again, Hermione waited. This time for the news to sink in. When he appeared a bit calmer, she said, "They had a son. Tonks and Remus. Teddy. He's three."

"Remus had a son?" Sirius suddenly laughed. "That's amazing, never thought he'd dare. We all told him several times he was being ridiculous of course, lycanthropy doesn't transfer that way, but he refused to listen. Was he happy?"

"About Teddy? Of course. Although, he did have some concerns when he found out Tonks was pregnant."

Sirius chuckled. "Bet he had a meltdown, poor sod."

Hermione smiled. "Harry set him straight, scolded him for not being there for his wife and unborn child."

"Sounds like Harry," said Sirius. He paused. "When can I see them? Harry and Teddy?"

Hermione blinked in surprise at the question. "Erm . . ."

Sirius gave her a sad, understanding look. "It's not every day Sirius Black returns from the dead. I reckon you need to prepare them for that."

"I do," she answered, grateful for his co-operation. "I think I'll speak with Harry and some other people, help them understand that you're not an Inferi that talks or something. And I need to make sure that there aren't any side effects from the Veil. It would be awful if Harry got his hopes up, only to have you . . ."

Sirius nodded grimly. "Sounds reasonable."

"I'm sorry, I know that you've spent so much time locked away and now I'm doing it to you again—"

"Hermione, Hermione," Sirius hurried, holding a hand up. "You have nothing to apologise for. If me staying here spares Harry pain, then I'll stay."

"Really? You were so miserable in Grimmauld Place, I'd hate for you to go through that again."

"I was miserable because I hated that house. This place . . .looks nicer." Sirius smiled. Then he looked around, his eyes searching the floor. "Crookshanks?"

"Oh," Hermione said.

"Don't tell me he also . . .?"

"No—it's not that!" Hermione moved to the door, opening it. Immediately, an orange ball of fur sprinted inside, hopped on the bed and began stroking himself against Sirius. "I didn't want him disturbing your sleep, so I shut him outside. He wasn't particularly happy about that."

"That's because he missed me," Sirius said, and Hermione pretended not to see the glistening in his eyes. She excused herself to get him breakfast.

It would take time for Sirius to adjust to all that had happened, and she wanted him as sound as could be before Harry met him. Harry didn't need to be the adult around Sirius. He needed stability. Or as stable as Sirius Black could be.

But first, Sirius needed to mourn.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The following days were odd for Hermione. Not used to living with another person anymore, she was shocked at how much she had missed it. On the second day of bed rest Sirius had enough and would walk around and make noises, whether it was playing muggle music on her cd-player or cooking, while Hermione sat in her office, catching up on her work load. She'd taken time off, feeling it was the right thing to do since she refused to let Sirius be alone, or for that matter, feel alone. So far that had proved to be the most tasking thing the two of them had to work through.

Going to sleep was a struggle and after the very first night, Hermione had taken to sleeping on a mattress by the bed. Sirius had been reluctant at first, but the darkness and silence threatened to swallow him up as soon as he closed his eyes, he said. He didn't explain further, but he didn't need to. Hermione knew he meant the darkness from the Veil.

So, they'd stay up and talk about nothing and everything, about Harry, about Teddy. About the new wizarding world that awaited him after Voldemort.

Eventually, Hermione dared tell him about the Obliviators.

"Sound like nasty people," said Sirius. He was in bed, Crookshanks next to him purring, while Hermione rested on the mattress. Both Sirius and Hermione laid on their backs and looked up at the ceiling which Hermione had charmed to look like the night sky. It had taken her forever and it still wouldn't come out as well as the sky in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but it seemed to calm Sirius at least. "People are desperate and they're exploiting their hurt."

"They think they're helping people heal faster," Hermione said, unable to hold back a scoff. "But I suppose that's the wizard community. Everything needs to happen quickly, instead of with time."

Sirius laughed softly. "You always were critical of our society. That's not a bad thing, mind you." He hesitated. "It's actually oddly comforting."

Hermione turned to the side, looking up to where he was. His profile was illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window and ceiling, his long lashes moving up and down as he blinked. "It's not all changed, Sirius. It's just . . .different."

Sirius sighed. "I've had to reintegrate to society once before, Hermione. Barely society really, mostly just people from the Order. But at least no one thought me dead. I—" There was silence and then the blanket he had rustled and he moved away from her. "I shouldn't complain, I'm sorry."

Hermione felt a tug at her heart. Sirius Black was apologising to her, sincerely. Her memories from their time together in the past had steadily come back as their time in the present moved along, and she remembered how sullen he'd been, but also how proud. It hadn't been impossible for him to admit he was wrong, but it had to be under extreme circumstances; for instance, gaining Harry something. Other than that, he'd refused to apologise unless he honestly felt he'd been in the wrong, if there was nothing to lose in showing himself fallible. And Hermione knew he meant it now. That he was sorry for complaining. And it made her heart break.

"Sirius, you've been through so much. If anyone deserves to complain, it's you." He remained silent and she suspected he was pretending to have fallen asleep. Though part of her wanted to make certain he'd heard her and that he wouldn't berate himself for being human, she urged that part to stay quiet. She wasn't fifteen anymore. Just because she wanted people to talk about their problems with her so that she could cure them, didn't mean that that's what they needed. She'd learned from having done that to Harry all these years. For once, she recognised the importance of staying out of it.

She fell back down again, clutching the covers as she faced the other side, her back to Sirius' now. "Good night, Sirius."

It took a long moment, but just as sleep was about to claim her, she thought she heard him whisper it back.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"I'm home." Hermione shrugged off her cloak, laying it down on the sofa after coming out of the Floo.

Sirius appeared from the kitchen with Crookshanks in tow. "How'd it go?" he asked, clearly eager. But once he saw her expression it all was wiped away. "What happened?"

Hermione sighed and collapsed next her cloak. "Awful. Harry refused to listen to another word I said after I told him you were back. He doesn't want to believe it, he even told me I was being cruel." She rubbed her forehead. "There was a lot of screaming."

Sirius slowly approached, sitting himself down next to her. "Are you all right?"

The witch gave a sniff. "I'm fine. I'm sorry that I couldn't get him to meet you."

"He'll come around."

Hermione looked up at him, getting caught in the grey eyes looking back at her gently but determined, as if he truly believed in what he was saying. The conviction resonated with her and she found herself leaning into his touch; the arm he'd wrapped around her warm and comforting. It had been forever since she had felt this way. Safe. Steady.

And it scared her.

"I hope so," she said, breaking eye contact and granting her cat the attention instead. Crookshanks was stroking himself against her leg.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Do you realise what she must have done to bring you back?" Harry asked Sirius, angrily.

Sirius looked sternly back at his godson. "Of course I realised. Ever since I bloody woke up. But the difference, Harry, is that I chose to be grateful for what she did. To ask her about what had already happened would be ungrateful. She risked a lot for your happiness. And I don't just mean bringing me back."

Harry looked away ashamed and outside the room, Hermione was trying not to cry. To hear someone stand up for her like that . . .when was the last time that had happened? She couldn't even remember.

She had to snap out of it quickly however when she heard footsteps approaching the door. Not knowing where to hide she dithered around in the hallway until it opened and she saw Harry. She smiled at him unsurely.

His expression was mixed and he opened his mouth as if to say something. Then, he shook his head.

"Harry—"

"Hermione, stop."

He hugged her. She hugged him back.

And behind them, Sirius was smiling softly.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Are you ready?" Hermione asked.

In front of her, Sirius took a deep breath. His grey eyes traveled from the door to her form, locking on her face, as if needing to ground himself. The thought made the insides of Hermione's stomach flip. He smiled. "Yes." And then to make matters worse, he offered his arm.

The warmth of him, the feel of it against her as she threaded her arm through his, and noticing the muscles that clearly existed beneath the fabric, had Hermione experience a dizziness she only connected with ones she had when she liked someone. When it was about to go from physical appreciation, to physical attraction. Which was ridiculous. Sirius was Harry's godfather. Admittedly, Hermione had always found him handsome, in an 'aristocrat turned rugged' sort of way, but she'd never been attracted to him before. Not even so much as a school girl fancy. The victim in _that_ case had been Remus. Which was why she found herself perplexed. When and how had this happened?

"Hermione?" Sirius whispered. "You all right?"

Hermione nodded slowly, "Mhm, I'm fine. Just . . . want this over with, is all." She looked up. "Perhaps it would be best if you didn't—if we didn't . . ."

Breaking away from her gaze, Sirius removed his arm— not harshly, but less delicate than Hermione would have thought him capable in this situation. "Of course. Wouldn't want to them to get the wrong impression."

"That's not what I meant—" But just then the doors opened, and Hermione had other things to focus on.

"Miss Granger, tell us how you got Lord Black back from the dead—"

"Miss Granger, are you using Dark Magic? Did you abuse your power to—"

"Lord Black, where were you _really_ these past five years?"

Sirius buttoned the front of his robes and with what could only be described as floating forward, he addressed the media. Looking ever the part of the last Black.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Harry has offered me to stay with him." It was the first time Sirius had spoken more than five words at once to her in the three nights that had passed since the press conference."And I think I should do it."

Hermione's mind went into a state of rushed thoughts and simultaneous stillness. Her heart rate slowing and racing at the same time. Her stomach felt cold.

"Oh."

Sirius continued, "Grimmauld Place is my birthright, and though I don't want it—with Voldemort gone, it might be time for me to organize our house again. The house of Black. And I need to do that from there."

Hermione was silent. Selfish as it was, she was trying to think on what this would mean for her. What it would mean to not have Sirius around anymore. To not have him hum and dance around the flat, prepare her breakfast—burnt, but Sirius would claim it to be on purpose—or greet her when she came back home. To not find him and Crookshanks laying by the fire or on the sofa together. To have to face her nightmares alone again . . .

Tears slid down her cheeks against her will, soaking her pillow. And when she couldn't take it anymore, she rose to leave the room.

Sirius didn't follow her.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"This is beyond ridiculous!" Ginny snapped.

Hermione looked up from the piece of scone she was shredding to microscopic bits. "What do you want me to say, Ginny? That I wanted him to chase after me? That I want to be with him again? That I miss him so much it hurts?"

"Yes! All of those things!"

Hermione sighed. "You don't understand. There's so much that . . .the age difference alone . . ."

"Hermione! A couple of months ago he wasn't even alive! I think age is the least of your problems. Besides, this is the wizarding world. And don't start on the whole 'he's Harry's godfather' business."

"He is Harry's godfather!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry might be dense, but he's not blind. And it certainly is obvious that while Sirius is happy living with Harry, he is visibly brighter whenever you're here."

Hermione blushed and got back to her scone. "He is not."

"Is too," Ginny smirked. "Not to mention he was staring all awestruck at you when you held Teddy the last time he was here. Why are you two so reluctant to work this out?"

Hermione shrugged. "My history with people hasn't been great. I couldn't even make it work with Ron for more than a year . . . Other than that it's the usual, I suspect: Fear of being hurt, of it ending in heartbreak. On Sirius' end, I'm not sure, but . . ." She took a shaky breath. "I'm scared Ginny. And I can tell he's scared. We're both—we're both so damaged. What if too much has happened?"

Ginny set down her cup of tea abruptly—causing Hermione to startle—and shook her head. "No, don't do that. Don't do the whole pity thing. Yes, you both deserve to pity your situations, but not while you have each other. Have you thought about that? You two have each other yet you're refusing to appreciate that. And fear of heartbreak? Honestly, wasn't that what you were so against? People's memories vanishing, not appreciating what that they had despite the pain? Don't be a hypocrite, Granger."

"I—"

"Don't. Be. A. Hypocrite." Ginny stared, not giving in until Hermione nodded, after which the redhead gave a satisfied grunt and returned to her tea.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hermione stood outside Sirius' bedroom half an hour later, biting her lip.

 _Well, here it goes._

She knocked three times.

"Come in! What's—Hermione." There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and Sirius rose from his desk, leaving behind what looked like designs for a new motorcycle. That was good, Hermione thought, he had a project. Feeling relieved she looked up into his grey eyes, and found that they were watching her keenly, which made her blush and immediately avert her gaze.

"Erm," she continued, hitting herself internally at her dumb speech. "Hi. How—how are you?"

Sirius grinned. "Good. Lordship is coming along boringly, but well. How are things at the world's least appreciative job?"

She crossed her arms. "Good. I'm making plenty of people upset by working on a bill supporting and improving werewolf rights."

Sirius blinked, his grin growing wider yet. "That's brilliant!"

Hermione blushed again, moving a lock of hair behind her ear. "Well . . ."

"No, don't do that," said Sirius.

"Do what?" Hermione asked.

"The thing where you act as if what you're doing isn't completely incredible."

She rolled her eyes and stepped closer to his desk, attempting to change the subject. "What're you working on?"

Sirius looked back at his designs. "Need a new ride, don't I? What with my old one fighting valiantly during the war and all. I know Arthur has been tinkering with it, but it's not going as it used to, so I concluded that it might be time for a new one. Not to mention that Arthur appeared heartbroken at the possibility of being parted from it. Perhaps I should buy him a leather jacket for Christmas to go with it, Molly'd love that, I'm sure."

Hermione giggled.

Sirius grinned and brought forth a handful of ripped out pages from a muggle magazine. "I've gone through a couple of newer models, but I think I'd like to stay with an older one. Then there's the spells. The ones I had before worked fine but there are some possible adjustments I'd love to experiment with, perhaps you'd enjoy helping me with that? There's also . . ."

The afternoon passed quicker than Hermione would have thought it could. The two of them were seemingly content to discuss magic, though other topics occasionally came up, much like it had when Sirius had stayed in her apartment. It was a sense of nostalgia Hermione hadn't even thought possible to feel, and especially not this soon. It hadn't been too long since he'd last been living with her, after all.

Somehow, they ended up discussing the bike again and that's when Hermione decided it was time. "Sirius?"

She'd interrupted him in the middle of a rant—one where he commented on how unfair it was that goblins wouldn't 'lower' themselves to making parts to his motorcycle, and Sirius met her gaze a bit perplexed, but quickly picked up on her changed mood. He was always good at that. "Yes, Hermione?" he asked, a line of worry visible between his eyebrows.

She bit her lip. She considered how what she said next could— would— come to change the relationship between them forever. She took a deep breath. "How come . . .how come you didn't go after me that night?"

If she had been afraid he wouldn't know what she meant, then looking at him now made her realise it was not to worry. He knew. And he looked ashamed.

His hands clasped together and he rubbed the fingers as if caught between prayer and frustration. Then he sighed. "How could I?"

Hermione's brows furrowed. "I don't understand."

"How could I have gone after you? Even if I had known whether you wanted me to or not—"

"I did! I did want you to! Sirius, I only left because you told me you'd go back to Grimmauld Place, a place you hate, rather than stay with me. That hurt, but if you had only told me something—"

Sirius' jaw clenched and he let out a frustrated sound. "It wasn't about you! That decision had to do with everything else I have to deal with now that I'm back! I didn't need to confuse you, or myself for that matter, more than necessary. I needed to sort things out."

"Well," said Hermione coolly, "How lucky it is that your decisions didn't confuse me."

"Don't," warned Sirius. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. You know this."

Hermione avoided his eyes, ashamed that she had resorted to such comments, but it was true that his decisions had confused and hurt her. And a dark part was afraid that he was lying, that he had intended to hurt her. If only to make her go away.

"You gave me my life back, Hermione. I will never forget that," Sirius continued. "But I refuse to be responsible for you losing yours. You deserve someone whole, you've seen firsthand the things I've suffered. I'm too old and broken for you."

"Ginny's right," Hermione said to herself out loud, "It does sound ridiculous."

Before Sirius could say anything in response, Hermione thrust her arm in his face.

"You see this?" she asked, everything inside her ablaze, trying to prove to the man in front of her how idiotic he was being. "This scar is just the start of it. There are plenty more I could show you, and others I can't. I am not the opposite of you, I'm not young and pure, or whatever it is you've had to convince yourself I am! And I'm especially not some naïve little girl who's known no hardships! And I can't believe you dare tell me how to live my life!"

"Hermione—"

"No!"

"Hermione!" Sirius took hold of her arm, still outstretched, and she tried to ignore how much his touch affected her, how the feel of his gentle hand spread warmth to the rest of her body. He stepped even closer to her, clutching her arm to his chest and she felt her stomach flip at the contact. His eyes were intense and desperate. "I have no idea what to do about this, whatever it is, between us. But if you do, then enlighten me. Please."

He waited as she struggled for words, but none came. Instead, after much consideration, Hermione swallowed, moved forward and pressed her lips to his. It didn't take long for him to respond.

The lips that had been unmoving, moved, and though she shouldn't have been surprised, they were passionate and took her breath away. His hands meanwhile were everywhere, roaming her body and exploring her, delighting in every curve they found and that they were allowed access to them. Hermione gasped when his mouth found her neck and clutched at his shirt. She hadn't known how much she'd longed for this, but now that it was here, it felt amazing. But just as she was considering removing said shirt, Sirius stopped and sighed.

"W-what is it?" she asked, a bit disappointed and out of breath.

Still nuzzled at her neck, Sirius said, "You're Hermione."

"I am," she responded. "Pleasure to meet you."

"No, you don't understand," he groaned. "You're _Hermione_."

Hermione's eyes closed and she sighed as well. She did know what he meant. What little self-restraint Sirius had needed to have his concerns appeased first if it was to be removed.

So, she gently grabbed hold of his head, palming his cheeks to look at her, part of her amused that she was doing this to someone so much older than herself. But another not minding it one bit. "I'm Hermione," she said. "I'm a lot younger than you, but I'm also a grown woman. I'm your godson's best friend, but I'm also your friend. I have no regrets. Even with all the pain in my life, I don't regret any of it. So why would you think I'd regret you?"

They held each other's gaze for a long time, Hermione refusing to waver, until Sirius let out a soft breath and kissed her palm. "All right."

Hermione couldn't help it, she smiled. "All right?"

"All right," Sirius repeated, his lips pulling upward too. "You stubborn woman."

"You won't regret this," she promised.

Sirius laughed. "Doubt that I will. Or that you'll let me."

She arched an eyebrow which made him laugh even harder. Then she daringly ran her hands down his front slowly, stroking his chest, which to her delight made him stop (even if it caused her neck to burn a little). "I think that's enough talking for now," she said.

"Can't help but agree," Sirius answered, his eyes darkening.

"What did I just say?"

Sirius grinned but kept quiet as he leaned in close, and Hermione rejoiced at feeling his lips find hers again.

* * *

~o0o~

* * *

A/N: IT. IS. DONE.

This story fought me so much. I thought the idea was cool, but I could not find anything in me to make it into more than a one-shot so this is what you kids get. Sorry, not sorry (I TRIED SO HARD YOU DON'T EVEN KNOOOOW! SO MANY DRAFTS AND DISCARDED GARBAGE IDEAS!)

Hoped you enjoyed it even as a one-shot though, I really do!  
Hugs!  
/Primrue


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